I have tried to block out most of it from my memory, but the blood, I can’t forget the blood. There was so much of it. I grabbed the knob to put my key in, but the door just floated open, effortlessly. Like a curtain slowly rising to unveil the setting of someone else’s life.
Blood smeared on the the walls, the furniture, the chair. There was so much of it. The cabinets in the kitchen, The drapes, the cloth that covered the table. I stood in silence, looking through the sliding glass door. A hand print painted blood, sliding from the top to it’s bottom. My heart beating strong. It was hard to swallow with it lodged within the windpipe of my throat.
Is this really it? Can this really be the end this time? Will the madness finally be over? I was so tired. But the body…where was the body….